


Skittles and M&M's

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, UST, there is nothing but fluff here, this might be the fluffiest thing I have ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 22:22:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15325680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: Mulder and Scully are stuck in a tiny airport. Mulder finds food - or something like it.





	Skittles and M&M's

They’ve been here for ages. A glance at her watch tells Scully it’s been two hours and 24 minutes. It feels like 24 hours, though. Mulder sits next to her, his long legs stretched out, his arms crossed. He’s bored, she’s tired. Never a good combination.

“I’m hungry,” he says jumping up from the plastic seat, “are you hungry?” Of course she is. Neither of them has eaten in hours. It didn’t seem like a big deal until they got stuck here at the tiniest airport she’s ever seen, with a small cabin and an even smaller wooden bench that the pilot described as the lounge. What a fucking joke. There are no restaurants here, nothing. So Scully stares at Mulder, wonders if he thinks he can just summon food if he only believes hard enough. 

“I think I saw a vending machine outside,” Mulder says when she doesn’t answer him. He stares at her a moment longer, but what can she say? It’s not Mulder’s fault they’re stuck here. Except, of course, it kind of is. He brought them here, to the middle of absolutely nowhere, for an inane case (that wasn’t even a case, mind you). A place so small it has no name. The only way out a short plane ride back to civilization. But not, as the pilot explained, in this windy weather. Wait a few hours, he told them with a slimy grin, and then we’re good to go, probably. Scully keeps looking outside, as much as she can see through the milky, grimy windows, and waits. And waits. Nothing changes, ever. 

“I’m gonna go check.” Mulder’s voice startles her, makes her realize she’s never even answered him, or reacted in any way. She nods, now, and watches him walk off. The door falls shut behind him and she feels cold, even more weary. She leans her head against the wall behind her, can only hope it’s clean. But she’s planned a long, hot and cleansing shower as soon as she gets home anyway. She closes her eyes, imagines the hot water cascading down her body, caressing her skin. There’s a soft pressure on her face, her cheek. It takes her a moment to realize it’s not her fantasy, but reality. Scully opens her eyes and looks up at Mulder.

“I brought food.” There are two bags in his hands, one in each. 

“Skittles and M&M’s?” Scully asks with disdain in her voice. 

“It was either that or Butterfingers.” She doesn’t tell him she would have preferred that. He sits down next to her and produces a small bowl made out of paper. Scully regards him, the question of how and where apparent on her face. He grins as he straightens the corners; he won’t tell her. Instead he opens up both bags, pours some Skittles in, then some M&M’s on top of them. He mixes them up with his fingers before he holds the small cup out to her, the paper straining under the weight of the colorful drops of candy. 

“Why did you do that?” Scully asks him. Her hand hovers over his. From here, right now, they all look the same. What does she want? She wonders. Candy or chocolate. How will she know without tasting them?

“Why not?” He takes a yellow one out, puts it in his mouth. Scully watches him, marvels at his beautiful lips, forgets where they are and why when the tip of his tongue comes out to run over his bottom lip. “Hmmm.”

“Skittle or M&M?” Scully asks him. 

“M&M. Try one, Scully.” She takes a green one but hesitates. “Do it,” Mulder urges her on. She puts it in her mouth, tastes the sweet sugar and bites down.

“Which one is it?” Mulder’s voice is full of excitement. 

“Skittle." 

"I want a Skittle, too.” He takes a red one, searches for the small white ’S’ that gives it away. But he keeps it between his fingers. He takes out a green one with a small ’M’ on it. “Open your hand, Scully.” She does and he puts the candy, now warm from his fingers, into her palm. A small, red ’S’, a small, green ’M’ side by side. 

“You know what this is?” He asks.

“Inadequate dinner,” Scully answers, her stomach grumbling. 

“No, it’s us.” She looks at him, certain he’s finally lost his sanity. But he’s wistful, smiling shyly. 

“Look,” his finger touches the Skittle, brushes her skin, too, “this is you. S for Scully, get it?” He chuckles and with him leaning against her, she feels it through her whole body. “It’s red, like your hair.”

“Then why is yours green, Mulder? Your hair isn’t green and neither are aliens. Your hair is brown.” She finds a brown M&M and puts it next to the green one. 

“There are no blue Skittles in this bag, Scully. I’ll give you an M&M,” Mulder says looking for one that fits, “You don’t just get the red for your hair, though. It stands for passion, love and determination, too.”

“That sounds more like you than me.” She doesn’t want her voice to sound so small, fragile. Mulder doesn’t meet her eyes as he picks a purple Skittle. 

“This one is the perfect you.” He doesn’t put it in her palm, but holds it up instead. “Purple combines red and blue. It’s graceful, dignified and mysterious,” he looks at her, “very independent and passionate. Calming to everyone around. Open your mouth, Scully.” A whisper in her ear and her lips open on their own accord. Mulder gently puts the Skittle on her tongue. She closes her mouth and her lips graze his fingers as their eyes remain glued together.

“I want to know what you taste like.” She blames it on the sugar high, on his close proximity. Her face is flushed, almost as red as the Skittle in her hand. The candy sticks to her sweaty skin, but she doesn’t care. “I mean the M&M’s.” Mulder nods, a slow motion movement. He picks up the green one from her hand and brings it back to her mouth. The chocolate is rich and leaves her wanting more. Or maybe that’s the hint of Mulder’s taste that she licks off of her lip. She wants, no needs, more.

“Your turn,” Scully murmurs. “What do you want?” She asks him.

“You better not ask me that.” Her breath catches. She looks at him, at the Skittles and the M&M’s. She could just pick one, let him be surprised. Is this really them, she wonders, like he said? A small microcosm of their combined traits and faults, passions and ideas. She likes it. She picks a red M&M and a green Skittle, mixing them up.

“Open up, Mulder,” she whispers. She puts both pieces of candy in his mouth. “Red and green,” she says as she watches him eat, swallow, “they’re complementary colors. What does it taste like?” He closes the distance between them and when his lips move against hers, his tongue stroking hers, the only thing she comes up with as an answer, the only description that comes even close, is perfection.


End file.
